Day 84 – Placate – Short Story

“So that’s your story then?” He says as he takes another drag on the cigarette and blows the smoke into her face.

“Like I told you, it was all Benny, he was the one who said we should teach Jarvis a lesson, he planned it all, me and Stacy, we had no choice, he fucking scared us, he was like a completely different person than what he was normally like, he was like, secretive and shit,” She say.

“And you can take us to his body?”

“I can take you to where he said he buried it, I never saw him actually do it,” she says as she shuffles in her seat, his left eye twitches nervously and he takes another drag on the cigarette.

“And Stacy can confirm this?”

“Of course she can, we stayed and cleaned up the mess he made while he went and buried his body,” she says as she bites her lower lip.

He stands up and butts his cigarette out in an ash tray and looks down at her through the smoke, “I’ll talk to Stacy and see how her story compares with yours and with any luck, you’ll both be free to go before the end of the night.”

“But he’s still out there, he could come after us?”

“Don’t worry Linda, we already have Benny in custody, we just need to work out where you and Stacy lie in all this,” he says as he walks out of the interrogation room.

“So, tell me, what the fuck is going on with this shit fest?” Superintendent Watson asks, his face pensive and his brow furrowed.

“It’s exactly as it looks, we just need to put the noose around their necks, but right now I’m doing what you told me to do, placate them until he gets here,” he says as he turns to the door of the interrogation and turns the handle.

“Don’t throw my words back at me Weite, you’re not clever enough to use them the way they’re supposed to be used.”

“With all due respect Steve, kiss my arse and watch me break this one,” he says as he pulls the door open, Stacy jumps as he enters the room, and instantly starts chewing on her already tattered finger nails.

“Stacy, I’m Detective Inspector Weite, I need you to answer some questions I have about the abduction and murder of Jarvis Sloan.”

“It was all Benny’s doing, he came storming in, with Jarvis all fucked up and then killed him right in front of us, God, look, can I have a smoke? I’m peeking out right here?”

“I wasn’t aware you smoked?”

“I’m reformed okay, but every now and then I need one to take the edge off, is that okay? Or are you going to lock me away for that?”

He slides the packet of cigarettes that sit on the table over to her with a lighter and she nervously pulls one out and lights it up, taking a long, deep drag.

“So what happened after Benny killed Jarvis?”

“He went and fucking buried the body down at his old shack and left me and Linda to clean up the fucking mess, we were too scared to do anything else, but Linda’s already told you this crap, and if Benny’s said anything else he’s a lying sack if shit!”

“What makes you think we’ve talked to Benny?”

“You’ve got him haven’t you? Or are you just trying to stir the pot to see what happens?”

“I’m unsure I know what you…” He is interrupted by a knock at the door and his partner Sofia Martin pokes her head in.

“Watson wants to see you,” she says, Weite looks at Sofia and then back at Stacy.

“We’ll continue this in a minute, don’t…. Just stay here,” he says as he leaves the room, Sofia stands with an elderly gentleman, he’d have to be somewhere in his mid sixties, balding and wearing a grey woolen suit. “You’re Kline?”

“Yes, Detective, how is she responding?” he says as he holds out him hand.

“Like a New Year’s Eve party, all the old friends are popping up, and they’ve been talking to each other.” Weite replies as he grabs his hand and gives it a strong shake.

“Sorry, are you implying they are talking to each other?”

“I’m not implying, I’m telling you that’s what’s happening, well all except for Benny. As far as I can tell, we’ve had Gloria, Adam, Stuart, Linda and Stacy, and Stacy’s well aware of what we’ve been asking Linda, and that we have Benny in custody, but she isn’t aware if we’ve talked to him or not, so I’d assume he’s not speaking to anyone. I need you to give me something to work with doc, but first, I’ve got to know, why the fuck is she out of the institution if she’s this fucked up?”

“Carole sufferers from dissociative identity disorder, she’s been in and out of institutions her whole life, opting into any case study or drug trial she could be part of in the hope of ridding herself of this disease, and we thought a new treatment she had twelve months ago helped move on all her personalities until there was only Carole, whole and complete.”

“Well I hate to break it to you doc, but she’s not whole and complete anymore, when did you last see her?”

“Two weeks ago and she was coping amazingly well, in fact a little too well I guess, but it was still Carole, no one else, I’ve seen them all, had them all try to pull the wool over my eyes, and I still can’t believe she could kill someone, it just seems unlike her or the personalities I know, none of them were violent, and this Benny you say she refers to has never manifested before, are you sure he’s not re…” Suddenly a loud smashing sound comes from within the interrogation room and Weite throws open the door to find Carole, bleeding from her eyes, the table ripped from the ground and a chair hanging through the two way mirror, Kline nervously comes into the room behind Waite and stumbles back in shock.

“Don’t go anywhere doc, Benny’s got a lot of catching up to do with you!” She screams.

To challenge oneself to 365 days of creation, giving myself one hour a day to write, thirty minutes to edit and then post the story and see where it leads. I'll also throw in excerpts of a novel I'm working or as well, which is how the short stories started in the first place, as a way to exorcise all the little, crazy stories that wouldn't fit anywhere out of my head, so, I hope you enjoy the trip. I should note, that all stories are created and owned by myself, if you like something and want to share it please do, share away, But if you want to feature it on your site or jumble something into an anthology please ensure you contact me first so we can discuss it like adults and not children who do not understand how the world works.

Welcome to the Rivers of Grue. I am the Keeper of the Crimson Quill and within these pages you will find a smorgasbord of different offerings ranging from fiction, introspective, and poetry, to film appraisals. There is absolutely no censorship and it is my aim to immerse the addressee through audio and visual stimulation, as well as my inimitable brand of prose. I trust you will enjoy your stay!